Reflections Of A Pink Desert
by Abraxas Qlippoth
Summary: A series of drabbles dealing with the gay wild west.
1. Index

**001** **I Catch Your Heart** | **T** | **Posted**: 2010-02-07  
Wind-in-His-Hair takes Dunbar for a ride at night - frustrated by their imperfect communication, Wind decides it's better to show, not tell, his feelings for Dunbar.

**002** **Broke Back Bill/Bull** | **M** | **Posted**: 2010-02-07  
While looking for Buffalo Bill and Sitting Bull, Annie Oakley peeks into a sweat lodge and discovers quite an eyeful of male bonding...

**003** **We've Been Caught, Tonto** | **T** | **Posted**: 2010-02-07  
The Lone Ranger and Tonto finally give into their feelings for each other.

**004** **Endure** | **T** | **Posted**: 2010-02-18  
The Lone Ranger contemplates the impending doom of the once wild west and wonders what will become of everything.

**005** **A Moment Here And There** | **T** | **Posted**: 2010-02-27  
Dunbar attends a festival at the village and explores his fancying of Wind-in-His-Hair afterwards.

**006** **Everything** | **M** | **Posted**: 2010-06-28  
Dunbar and Wind-in-His-Hair share an intimate and life-changing moment at the fort one dark and stormy night.

**007** **TeePeeChaser1989** | **M** | **Posted**: 2010-08-14  
(set in the modern day west) John (Ranger), in an effort to lead a 'normal' life without the mask and the sidekick, meets with a guy he chatted with online. But who is that guy? And will they hit it off?  
**Hentai Contest 2010 The Internet 2nd Place**

**008** **Make Love. Not War.** | **M** | **Posted**: 2010-09-11  
Wind-in-His-Hair and Dunbar were not friends - until a night at the teepee changed all of that!  
**Hentai Contest 2010 Sex Therapy 2nd Place**

**009** **Sunset** | **M** | **Posted**: 2011-02-10  
Can the John (the Lone Ranger) cope when tragedy strikes his closest and dearest companion? Is the weight of guilt so great that it bends reality into a dream and a dream into reality? What is left when everything is gone?


	2. I Catch Your Heart

**001** **"I Catch Your Heart"** by **Abraxas** 2010-02-07

Dunbar didn't understand Wind's urge to ride that night.

It was odd that his friend wanted to see his fort that night. Few travelled to it. Few asked about it. Indeed, the Indians avoided it. Especially Wind - the most hostile with respect to the white man's encroachment.

When they reached it Dunbar was curious about Wind's restless and frantic exploration of it. The warrior seemed determined to find something - but what? And the way he fumbled about with the trinkets...it was enough to make the soldier laugh.

Then curiosity turned confusion when, dissatisfied with everything, the Indian announced he wanted to ride deep into wilderness.

Wind extended his hand to invite Dunbar onto his horse.

"Alright... Alright," the Yankee said in English.

They rode through unknown territory cloaked by night then stopped where a stream meandered into the forest.

The strangeness continued.

Wind tugged Dunbar's shirt. Dunbar watched Wind's frustration. The buttons were not easy to work. They yielded, though, and white skin was exposed.

Wind brought Dunbar's hand to where his shirt was tied. Dunbar worked Wind's knot assuming that the ritual had to be replicated. The soldier expected the warrior to slap his hand and admonish his mistake - that did not happen - instead red skin was revealed.

Wind stroked Dunbar's skin and smiled. The agitation lifted. The frustration evaporated. Then the Indian withdrew - pleased - yet the fidgeting of his hands revealed anxiety.

The Yankee's eyes flashed with understanding. His friend communicated a very intimate message without a word. He reached and squeezed his companion's hands.

"It's hard for me, Lieutenant, I am not quick with words. I am not used to these - feelings - about you. It frustrates me..."

"It's OK. It's OK." Dunbar almost teared as he smiled. He rubbed the Indian's chest. "I catch your heart."

**END**


	3. Broke Back BillBull

**002** **"Broke Back Bill/Bull"** by **Abraxas** 2010-02-07

It refused to go away. Despite a spitfire of curses. It remained fixed. Gods, if it had been a nightmare she would have laughed - absurd! But it was real, real life. And it happened in front of her eyes.

Oakly chugged a bottle of rum.

She wanted to talk but who could be trusted? She wanted to write but what words could be used? It was unthinkable.

Another swill did not inspire confidence.

To see it clear as day yet to be forever unable to communicate it? Perhaps it was best. The world could not endure it.

"Why'd I look into the sweat lodge?"

But she could not find Buffalo Bill and Sitting Bull.

And there were...sounds...coming out of the mound.

It seemed so innocent. Why, she already joined their sauna and knew what to expect. She thought. Lord - what was she going to say if they invited her again?

"Guess now I know why they take so long..."

When she peeked through the doorway she caught a glimpse. A tiny, passing glimmer. Yet immediately the wholeness of it stabbed her eyes like a tornado of knives. It was a stampede of sounds and sights that took her breath away.

There they were, naked as if birthed. Bill on knees and elbows bucking like a god damned buffalo. Bull riding its ass, waving a hat while holding onto the white man's hair. And the howling and the grunting - the slapping of wet, hot flesh - that accompanied the movement it was like the score to a satanic man-on-man ballet. And somewhere between all of that 'ride 'em cowboy!' was yelled.

How she did not shriek she could not say.

The empty bottled rolled and crashed onto the floor.

"Knew there was something wrong about Broke Back Mountain!"

**END**


	4. We've Been Caught, Tonto

**003** **"We've Been Caught, Tonto"** by **Abraxas** 2010-02-07

Who was to know?

Out in the wilderness, the sky above, the ground below, they were isolated as if dropped onto an island.

The Ranger and the Indian recalled a great many opportunities to act. To take advantage of isolation. To express outward inward emotion. But there was a hesitation to overtly break that barrier.

Tonto fed the fire - sparks arose like a flare. John seared the meat - skewered across the rock.

They sat and watched flame lick air. There, side by side, inches apart.

Their friendship was unparalleled. Not simply because of their backgrounds. Individually, neither Ranger nor Indian shared such a bond as deep with another.

Although they did not acknowledge it they knew they craved to be together. Once they tried to walk away and attempt a 'normal' life. It did not endure a day - by night they met again at their camp.

The meat was ready and as if to break the spell cast by their gazing they raced to grab the skewers. Tonto's fingers clutched a stick. John's fingers fell atop the Indian's. White did not withdraw. Red did not slap away. Instead their accidental touch lingered. They looked at it. At their coupling. Until the Ranger took the other skewer.

Even then there was no attempt to take the meat until it sizzled.

He looked at the Indian. He took the man's hand - deliberately not accidentally. It was done without hesitation. It was met without resistance. "You are my world."

The red man pulled the white man. The tugging revealed a passion. "My faithful friend..."

When lips met lips there was no mistake.

"John," Tonto said, stopping and patting his friend's shoulder. "John."

The Ranger looked up under the Indian.

Their horses were gazing at them bewildered by their playing.

"We've been caught, Tonto..."

**END**


	5. Endure

**004** **"Endure"** by **Abraxas** 2010-02-18

A train - a string of tiny bright windows - snaked the valley from east to west. Like a nightmare it howled as it raced toward the horizon. Along the way it left a haze of spreading choking onyx that melted into the tapestry of starry midnight sky.

The Lone Ranger watched it leave with its impression of doom. There was a profound if subtle quality to it. Grotesque. Cumbersome. Even barbaric. Yet unstoppable. And it gave reality to what had been only intuition - that the country was vanishing.

Soon there would be nothing left of it.

The cowboy returned to camp and found its fire reduced by lack of fuel. Coal glowing like sunset illuminated the face of his partner. The Indian seemed unable to betray an emotion.

The Lone Ranger sat by his companion - hand met hand, warmly, with the embrace of fingers while not a word was spoken. Then arms linked. Then bodies met. Leaned into each other side by side. They stole a moment forbidden beyond the cloak of night.

He looked at the sky. Clouds sailed by stars, crowded the moon - which appeared distant. Was it retreating? Dimming? Fading? Diminished by man was it, too, depleted of wonder?

Tonto reached behind the figure's head and untied the face's mask - the disguise fell and dangle limp against John's shirt.

John teased Tonto's braid but could not find the knot that bound it.

"What will be of us?" John asked below while above Tonto hovered. "If the world we know ends..."

The Indian stared at the cowboy.

"When we were boys you caught my heart and I knew. Even then. I knew. We endure. It will always be you and me."

John smiled and at last that flash of joy was reflected by Tonto - that mask was off too.

**END**


	6. A Moment Here And There

**005** **"A Moment Here And There"** by **Abraxas** 2010-02-27

Dunbar kept with the elders as the ceremony unfolded. It was started by the children. Then the women. Then the men. Kicking-Bird said there would be several different styles of dance and he was eager to see all of it.

He was especially eager to see Wind.

The solider was fancying the warrior. As time passed the craving intensified. And while it seemed to be altogether alien - that he would be pursuing such a bond with another man - it felt too perfect.

Coming west was simply meant to be.

There was Wind dressed fabulously - painted and feathered - like the most beautiful sight to catch the eye.

It felt like a dream that could not be happening. The longer he dwelt among those people the more he wondered if it were just imagined. It could not exist. Or, if real, it could not allow a stranger into its realm. He thought he was too much of an outsider to be accept that way. He was already estranged with the world of the East; as man without a home, he feared he would be a stranger everywhere.

After the dance they met at a teepee.

Dunbar tugged Wind's sleeve. He let the touch continue to enure it was true. And he reached toward the face but he paused. He hesitated to damage the coloration. It was the brave who broke the ice with a tight embrace. Their faces met, cheek to cheek, paint smearing between.

Smile-A-Lot peeked into the hut - the boy's eyes widened at the shock of what he caught - he crawled back without a word.

They withdrew as if they realized the breach. A feather was stuck to Dunbar's face. A kiss was marked on Wind's lips.

"You're a catch, you know that," he said in English.

**END**


	7. Everything

**006** **"Everything"** by **Abraxas** 2010-06-28

Dunbar dropped a log onto the fire Wind started.

Flames roared and licked the wood. It grew warmer as the air chilled, brighter as the sun set. As everything settled, the white man watched as the red man danced about the fire. It was a private display of intimacy between cultures that climaxed with a smoke.

A while later they just sat in front of the fire as a new and different kind of dance started. Then Wind crept a little closer to Dunbar. Then Dunbar leaned a little nearer to Wind. The encroachment into each other's space was gradual and seemingly without purpose. Until there was not an inch to separate them and it was up to their fingers to continue their play.

They were like children but the game possessed a very adult (and dangerous) subtext. And that tension was revealed by a disturbance that caused them at once to separate and look about the fort nervously. But it was only the neigh of their horses. The animals, penned by fence, were engaged in their own gentle nose-nudging sport.

The men looked at each other and laughed. The tension was broken. Soon smiles were replaced by quick, lustful glances. Stirring as their bodies hungered, again, toward contact. Dunbar stroked and combed Wind's hair off of his lips, his cheeks. Wind embraced Dunbar, wrapping their legs about legs, pressing face against chest.

That fire wept as droplets splattered about the ground. A rain descended onto the fort carrying a fresh though acrid smell. Yet they did not budge. Dunbar's lips against Wind's nipple - moans of pleasure filling the air. They continued the exploration of their differences until the rain soaked their clothes and they retreated, hand in hand, into the shelter.

They were not free of rain - water trickled through the ceiling and hit their skin and their clothes as they dangled to dry.

Dunbar released the knot and Wind's hair unwound and spread. Again the white man was grabbed and embraced by the red man. Tightly. Deeply. Even air did not separate their skin. Dunbar surged to kiss Wind's lips, neck, chest. Then falling, falling...he inhaled curly black hair that brushed his face. And the taste of a man filled his mouth.

The storm surged - thunder and lightning flashed within the fort.

Wind was a rock, tip to base, moistened by Dunbar's kiss. The slightest touch along its contours urged a wilderness of ecstacy out of the Indian's lips.

Wind tumbled onto his knees, body flexing head to toe. Dunbar gasped as warmth gush through his fingers. Wind latched onto Dunbar, twitching and shaking and begging through words that came out a jumble of syllables. Dunbar came just by watching and feeling everything that happened with Wind.

They looked at their seed mingling.

"What does this mean?" Dunbar asked Wind.

Wind kissed Dunbar. They fell aside onto the grassy floor of the shelter. They lay together, entangled, as the storm raged. As its water trickled.

"Everything."

**END**


	8. TeePeeChaser1989

**007** **"TeePeeChaser1989"** by **Abraxas** 2010-08-14

John parked the Mustang at WacD's. Hesitating, he sat within the shadows and darkness and scanned the lot. Watching. Waiting. Nothing seemed amiss yet. Then he remembered why he came and he fumbled with his shirt, his hair. Tiding everything here and there with a mirror.

He could not recall such a spasm of anxiety about a date - god - a date. Except that it was with a guy! And it was the furthest and boldest venture out of the closet.

_let's meet at WacD's_

at Ponderosa and Main?

yup - at noon

heh heh heh! high noon eh? LOL and how will I know you?

hmmm...let's play cowboy and Indian :)

cool :) that would be delish :9 it'll be hard, you know, to keep my hands off your ass...and the rest of you

as if - sneaking up on an Indian? - I'm getting to that white ass first then I'm making it mine!

He was late and chances were that the guy would not show - yet - the anxiety switch was activated and there was no retreat.

He sat and nursed a rock hard bone spurred by those fantasies that guy inspired. He had only been chatting with FancyDancer49 a month since they met at the Masked Men Message Board. A site created to document the exploits of those vigilantes that he loved to troll and see what people thought of the Ranger and the Brave.

It was a burden to hide that side of their lives. John and Tonto - the crime fighting duo. It started as a hobby after they rescued each other from bullies at school. Then it grew and grew out of proportion. Now RL was a disguise. Strange as it was he only felt free behind that mask and he wondered if it was true with his friend.

Ranger wanted a space to be John again and FancyDancer49 seemed to offer that escape.

It was Tonto, though, who inspired the taste of the feather!fetish. Brave was hot. Utterly unwholesome and depraved fantasies inflated his cock night after night. Of course that could not be revealed.

All of a sudden, though, FancyDancer49 came along and he jumped at the chance to gain an outlet with which to express his volcanic man on man desire.

Then it was by chance that he noticed a very ancient Thunderbird next to his Mustang. Its sticker splattered rear stood in contrast to his car's most virginal tail. "NDN CAR" read a decal and he knew -

"Tonto?"

The Brave, in a fringed buckskin jacket, sat by the Ranger - both unmasked.

"TeePeeChaser1989?"

There was little but a confused stare between them. Then Tonto burst into laughter and leaned against John. "Why aren't your hands on my ass?" 

* * *

They parked their cars at the cliff - the Mustang sporting an "Indian Power" sticker to match the Thunderbird.

Below the city lights reflected the stars above.

In the moments between moments Ranger leaned into Brave and lips met. Then they donned their masks. And they were themselves again.

**END**


	9. Make Love Not War

**008** **"Make Love. Not War."** by **Abraxas** 2010-09-11

"Are you going to be my friend?" asked Dunbar through a dense Lakota accent.

"No! You...bad, bad soldier man!" shouted Wind as he struggled against the restraints.

Smiles a Lot poked his head into the teepee, saw the unbridled scene of lust between the men and slowly - slowly - crept away.

Dunbar grasped Wind by the cock which grew rather long and hard despite the Indian's protest - although, perhaps, because of it! He stroked it and advanced the rhythm as it twitched almost out of his grip. The sound of foreskin slapping, driven up and down that shaft competed with those growls of lust mixed with hate that greeted the soldier's efforts.

"Will you be my friend?"

"No! You..." Wind gasped as Dunbar squeezed his sack and poked his entrance with his fingers. "You disgust me..."

Suddenly - Wind tensed and that barrage of insults halted - Dunbar gazed at the cock which was swollen beyond imagination. The Indian yanked the restrains. The solider stroked head. Just the edge of the head as it was too swollen to let the foreskin cover it.

Then Dunbar felt his hand wet, wet, wet and splatter. And Wind shook from head to toe like a fish out of water.

"Will you be my friend?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" the words came like a torrent as wads landed onto tan, naked hide.

"Make Love. Not War." He kissed the tip of that still throbbing, still drooling red hot cock. "Now that's my kind of therapy!"

**END**


	10. Sunset

**009** **"Sunset"** by **Dr. Abraxas** 2011-02-10

I trek west - where Pharaoh went to die. Jagged mountains. Treacherous chasms. Scars from pole to pole where water flowed. Everything is bitter agony. Life is only the past not the future.

The sun with edges melting into mirage is perched to set. Distorted, its proportions more and more monstrous, its features add an element of the alien into the ingredients of that landscape.

I do not recall a time when it was safe to be Indian. Yet he seemed to be impervious to danger. Such inexhaustible grit and determination! God - did I take everything for granted?

I add speed - I will not be later - the objective is afar.

I will not escape the guilt - day by day it whittles my soul. If I had been vigilant about that Sundance? Smarter? Faster? And not given into that idea of invincibility.

Damn. You.

* * *

I came out of a dream, exhausted as if I endured from birth to death a whole other lifetime. For a breath I wondered who I was - so total was the illusion. As my eyes adjusted and my ears attuned, I saw I slept within the cavern. That dream, which threatened to be real, faded until only impressions remained, disjointed and chaotic.

With a sigh I turned.

"Tonto?" I asked, confused at the emptiness of the mattress.

He should have returned - the ceremony was ended.

I struggled onto my feet as fear surged through my body. Suddenly, everything felt as though at the verge of collapse. Was the dream about to be prophesy?

A sound slithered into my ears. A light caught at my eyes. Activity was coming at the end of the tunnel. My fear ebbed into elation. I approached the cause of the effect.

I found my prize - Tonto! - naked, his back to my face.

Just as I entered that alcove I caught the sight of his skin. Smooth. Hairless. Well-toned. He unbraided his hair and I watched that knotted lock of raven unravel and spread across from shoulder to shoulder. Thus, free of what man constricted, proud of what Nature endowed, the Indian stepped into a trickle of water.

God - when you constructed such a man, did you not gaze at your work and know it was good?

Tonto was not surprised. When my fingers explored the curves of his cheeks. When my bulge pressed the crack of his ass. He angled his head toward my face just enough that I saw the edges of his features. With a smile and not a word he returned to the business of the shower.

I watched as he worked the soap. While I stood, with my cock warmed between his cheeks, he rubbed the cleanse into his face where the paint was fresh. He brought the soap onto his chest. I helped the lather onto his back.

"You are too beautiful to exist," I whispered, my hands against his chest.

He splashed water onto my face as if to cast a spell - it was too late to repel my attack. I kissed his neck ... then his cheek ... then his lips. All the while he did not resist. Rather, he uttered a sound like a cry, short and cut through a reflex of modesty. Yet I knew the way that sound of strained, frustrated agony forced itself out of his lungs signaled his passions were too great to endure stoically. And were about ready to burst.

"I don't tell you I love you enough."

I rubbed the soap onto his cock. I watched myself stroke his length, rolling his foreskin up and down his tip. Gathering it into a knob. Retracting it into the shaft. I kissed his lips when he got too swollen. I gazed his eyes when I turned my attention from his shaft to his tip, where I teased those most vulnerable parts of his anatomy.

An arm moved onto my waist. An arm clutched at the rock. With those two supports Tonto kept upright as his reactions to my play became more and more erratic.

"Tonto!"

I pressed my body into his body. He tensed, squeezing and shivering. I dug my fingers into his crack. He squirted and drooled, emptying his essence onto my stomach.

* * *

_"Tonto - we will be together?"_

_"John - there will be many days and nights and sunsets between us."_

I nod, recalling what we promised each other as boys.

At the spot where we exchanged these vows I grasp your feather - all that connects me to you...

**END**


End file.
